Tipsy
by Lilly Winters
Summary: Dib and Zim's constant bickering get on Gaz's nerves to the point that she makes them attend a party so that they are out of her hair. But what happens when Zim is left alone for far too long? He gets drunk! Can Dib handle it after the evening takes a "sobering" turn? Hilarious Zim and Dib Friendship. Short story with 3-4 chapters max.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**It had to be done. I just couldn't resist. I was thinking to myself, "Hmm, maybe this is stupid." But who cares? Maybe that's what makes it funnier XD**

**This will be a short story with probably 3-4 chapters, just so you know. It is a Dib and Zim Friendship Fic.**

**I do not own Invader Zim, etc.**

**Enjoy and Review!**

"Space monster!"

"Pig head!"

"Alien scum!"

"Snot butt!"

"Shorty!"

A sharp, unbelieving gasp popped from Zim's mouth. "How dare you call a mighty Irken elite short! You're the same height as me, you, you…pig head!"

Dib scoffed. "Mighty Irken Elite? You couldn't conquer a sandwich, Zim!"

The conversation wafted through the room into the next. Their endless bickering continued, grinding down on Gaz's every nerve from her perch on the living room couch. It wasn't the fact that she was not used to this type of behavior from her brother and his enemy. They had been at it since they were eleven, which was saying something considering they were now both seventeen. She had heard every insult from the book fly from their mouths at one another.

No, what made this the worst of all, the cherry on top of a heap of childish antics, was that Zim wasn't having this argument with Dib in the kitchen. No, Dib had actually called Zim up from his house, at ten o'clock at night, _just to argue with him_.

This was all over the phone.

The heat in Gaz's chest rose until it boiled over. The whites of her knuckles deepened as her grip on her Game Slave tightened. She glanced sideways at the clock on the wall. They had been at it for over an hour. She couldn't take it anymore.

"That's it," she growled.

Dib did not notice when Gaz rose from her seat and stomped into the kitchen. He was too busy flailing his arms wildly with unnecessary gestures directed to Zim. It was not until Gaz had taken the phone from him and slammed it back into its cradle did he say something.

"Gaz!" he whined. "What'd you do that for? I had a really good comeback!" He reached for the phone.

Gaz quickly blocked it, shoving him over. "That's enough, Dib," she spat. "Talk with your little geek enemy at school. Just don't bring it home where I have to listen to it all day and night."

"But, Gaz, the world depends on this argument and the—oh, hold on." His pocket vibrated. He plucked his phone out and flipped it open, pressing it to his ear. "Hello?"

Gaz clenched her teeth to contain the pushing urge to scream when she heard Zim's voice talking through the other end. "He called your cellphone to continue?" she yelled in disbelief.

Dib did not hear her. He was already back at it, arguing away with the extraterrestrial.

"That's it! I've had it with both of you! Dib," she ordered, "turn your cellphone on speakerphone."

"Gaz—!"

"Now!"

He cringed, and quickly, the cellphone was turned onto speakerphone, revealing Zim to be in the middle of a long line of obscene insults.

"Can it, Zim," Gaz said.

"What? Who? Who dares speak to the Zim in such a way?" he shouted.

"Listen up. I'm sick of you and Dib doing nothing but arguing. Don't you have anything better to do with your lives?"

She could hear his evident smirk as he replied haughtily, "Insulting the Dib is the highlight of my day, naive little Gaz."

"Why don't you act like normal teenagers and go out?"

"Go out?" Dib asked. "With him?"

"Go out?" Zim repeated. "You mean, like to outer space?"

"Oh, geez, Zim," Dib replied. "She means get out of the house and hang out with friends."

Zim laughed. "But everyone knows the Dib-worm has no friends!"

"Neither do you!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, your head is large!"

"That's it, space boy! I—"

"Shut up!" Gaz hollered. "I don't care if you hang out together, just as long as you leave so that I don't have to hear you." She ignored their protests and spoke over them. "Someone from Skool is throwing a party. Go to it." She left the room.

"But we weren't even invited," Dib reminded. "We can't just show up. Besides, I'm not going anywhere with that green thing."

"Who are you calling green, you fleshy sack of stupidity!" Zim squeaked.

Gaz came back, resisting the urge to punch her brother, and handed him a slip of paper with an address on it. "It's right down the street. Go there and act normal." She huffed, adding, "If you can."

Dib scoffed. "I'm not showing up to some guy's party, uninvited—especially with Sir Incapable," he added, pointing at the phone.

"You are acquainted with a human by the title of Sir Incapable?" Zim questioned innocently. "Wow! He must be a real dork, like you, Dib!"

Dib shook his head.

"You're holding your invitation," Gaz said. "It was mine, but I'm never going to use it. I'd rather get you two out of my hair."

"Wait, since when do you get invited to anything?" Dib wondered. "You're as antisocial as Zim and I."

She folded her arms. "First off, there's a difference between me and Zim and you. I choose not to hang out with these idiots. You guys can't make any friends 'cause you're dorks—"

"Hey—!" Dib and Zim shouted.

"—Second, I tortured the guy until he coughed up that invitation."

"But if you weren't planning on going anyways, why did you bother beating him up?" Zim said, stealing the words from Dib.

She shrugged. "Just beating him up was fun. But that's beside the point. If you don't leave and go to that party this second," she gritted her teeth and dangerously growled, "I'm going to kill both of you and you will rot."

"Pitiful human," Zim snickered. "You honestly think your measly little threats will frighten the Zim? You are even more stupid than I thought!"

Dib gulped as he saw Gaz calmly walk out of the kitchen and out the front door completely. As soon as the door closed, through the phone he heard a door open on Zim's side.

"Wait," Zim muttered. "What are you doing with that screwdriver—? AAHHHHH!"

Dib shook his head as the Irken continued to scream, yet he pulled away from the phone when sparks began shooting out from it. Then the front door swooped open, and Gaz walked back into the kitchen, emotionless. "I don't want to know what you did to him," he said.

"You're right," she agreed. "You don't."

"Zim, are you still alive?" Dib asked. A soft, hoarse gasp was his reply. He nodded slowly. "Then I guess we'd better do this, before I'm next."

"Wise choice," Gaz smirked. She began to walk away when Dib called to her.

"What are we even supposed to do together? You know we hate each other."

"Well, then, I guess that's just going to make this evening a little more interesting, isn't it?" she smiled devilishly before leaving the room.

**A/N**

**Short, I know, but this is just the introduction. Sorry if it is a little slow. I think you will enjoy the next chapter though.**

**Were any of the characters out of character? I have not written in a week or two, plus I have lost many hours of sleep so my writing skills may be a bit rusty.**

**Thanks for reading and Chapter 2 will be up soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

**Thank you for being patient. I have serious writer's block going on. If any of you have any suggestions for how to get rid of it, please tell me because I am getting desperate. I need to begin writing my novel and every time I try to start it, I can't think straight!**

**Enjoy!**

So as to not further anger his little sister, Dib reluctantly agreed to hang out with Zim. He grumbled to himself, all the while cleaning his glasses and pulling a jacket over his brown turtleneck sweater from the closet to prepare himself for the chilly night.

"Of all the nights," Dib muttered, "Gaz had to threaten me on the coldest one of October yet!"

With the door slipping shut behind him, he was on his way to the Irken's house. The walk held nothing special in particular, well, except for that radioactive squirrel that crawled out of a manhole and bit him on the arm before sprouting wings and flying away. Besides that, it was pretty boring.

Dib rang the doorbell and waited impatiently on the front porch. Zim opened the door as he was in the middle of slipping on a contact lens. He stared at the large-headed boy who was scratching at his arm vigorously.

"Fleas?" he asked.

"No, squirrels—hey, wait!"

"Oh, close your mouth Dib-worm. Let's just get this night over with and done." Waving a nonchalant goodbye to Gir, he closed the door. The two made their way onto the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the party.

"Listen, Zim. I'm just as put out as you about this. It isn't exactly my Saturday night plan to hang out with my worst enemy."

"Oh, please. This is the most fun you've had in ages." He smirked smugly. "Admit it. Anyone would be lucky enough to hang out with the mighty Zim!"

"The only thing I'd like to do with you Zim is land you on an autopsy table while taking pictures," he countered.

"At least I'm not wearing a frilly sweater."

"Oh, what, and you're dressed any better?" he asked, gesturing at Zim's red jacket and loose-fitting jeans.

Zim shoved him, crossing his arms and smiling triumphantly. Dib returned the favor with much more force. In no time, they were rolling on the ground, throwing punches and insults, leaves crackling beneath their backs. Zim was the first to untangle himself from the fight, screaming, "Enough!"

Dib wiped spittle from his chin. "You started it!"

"Give me that invitation," Zim demanded, snatching it off the ground where it had fallen from Dib's pocket in the struggle. "We're almost there. If we can manage not to kill each other by then, we should be able to get through this night."

"Don't make it sound so simple," Dib grunted.

Zim muttered, pointing at a house on the corner that blasted colors and music into the air. They quickly climbed the steps, trying their best to arrive before the other did, and Dib rang the doorbell. The door immediately swung open, and they both cringed at just who it was.

It was Keef. Donning a hoody and baggy pants that were right about to fall down, he looked like a clown instead of the "gangster" air he was going for. He smiled and quickly gathered the two into a hug. The chunky gold chains draping around his neck dug into their throats. "I didn't know you'd be coming!" he squealed.

Zim shoved the teenager off, wiping himself clean. Even years later, he was still an annoying person, bent on destroying others slowly through the torture of affection and hugs; not to mention that ridiculous high-pitched voice. Guess he was too stupid to go through puberty, Zim thought.

"Neither did we," Dib remarked, glaring at Zim. And then he had an idea. "Actually, we weren't invited. My sister Gaz was. So if we can't come in, I'll completely understand and we can just head home to—"

"Of course you can!" Keef hollered, even though they could hear him clearly above the blasting music. "Come on in!"

Zim growled and remained where he stood. Dib was forced to drag him in, fearing the beating he would take from his sister later if he did not comply to the agreement. Inside, strobe lights flashed and threw wicked colors and sights across the room. On top of a bookcase, someone had placed a fog machine that spit out mist across the entire ground floor. Zim coughed, waving his hand to clear the steam clouding around his face. Girls gathered around the stereo in the corner, dancing erotically, suggestively with their partners. Glass bottles filled to the brim with beer glistened in the lighting. Zim bent over, eyeing them curiously. Dib tapped him, shook his head, and they continued.

They looped their way through the groups of dancing, sweaty bodies. Dib thought he saw Zim gag and cover his mouth as they made their way into the kitchen. It was somewhat quieter, but not much. A radio was on the countertop, and the volume was turned all the way up.

Dib leaned uncomfortably against the wall, the only clear spot he could find. His Irken tagalong sighed irritably.

"Well, this is fun." He pulled a glass bottle into view and poured the beer into the sink. The smell wafted up. "I do not understand why you humans enjoy this partying, or the consumption of beard."

"Beer," Dib corrected. He shrugged. "At least we agree on that. I don't get it either, but Gaz was pretty serious and I'm not planning on playing with her temper tonight."

"Yo!"

They turned at the call and looked up at the young man who glowered angrily down on the pair, a red, plastic party cup in his hand. His pants sagged loosely around his waist, barely even staying in place with each step he took. They figured he had something to do with the influence on Keef's attire.

"Who said you losers could come?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?" Zim shouted.

"You aren't invited, shorty!" He leaned in closer.

Zim smothered disturbed gasps, trying his best to breathe through the man's heavy alcoholic breath. "You dare call—?"

"No, no, Zim," Dib waved him off. "He's right. We weren't invited." Zim eye him confusedly. He nodded. "We really weren't invited. I mean, yeah, even though Gaz, you know, Gaz Membrane, that creepy girl who's capable of, well, anything, who happens to be my little sister, did tell us to take her place here tonight, who are we to listen if, oh, what's your name?"

The guy blinked, dumbfounded. "Um…Chunk." He gulped. "My name is Chunk. Did you say your sister was Gaz—?"

"Okay, Chunk," Dib said. "I'll be sure to tell her that you're the one who interfered with her wishes. See you later!"

"Uh, on second thought," he grabbed Dib's shoulder just as they were leaving, "why don't you stay? I mean, there's no harm in you being here." He chuckled nervously, gripping his cup tightly.

Dib smiled. "Well, thanks, Chunk. I appreciate that."

They watched him walk away, timidly glancing over his shoulder and flashing them a thumbs up and a fake grin. Dib returned the gesture before saying to Zim, "Sometimes the reputation of Gaz's temper comes in handy. Hey, where are you going?"

Zim shuffled away. "Somewhere where I don't have to hear your nasally voice." He smirked. "Oh, and I'd watch out. We don't exactly blend in here. We're going to be the target for everything."

Dib scoffed. "Paranoid alien."

Little did he know, that crazy alien was right. About an hour into the party, Zim was pounding his head against the wall. He couldn't take it anymore! The pounding music, the loud chatter, gossiping girls, obnoxious boys; what anyone saw in these get-togethers he would never understand.

These filthy humans don't know that there is a mighty Irken elite among them, he thought, casting a glance to some guys jumping down a flight of stairs. Then again, they may kill themselves before I even get a chance to do anything.

He sighed and marched back downstairs into the living room. Dib was in the safety of the upstairs bathroom, secretly hiding from everyone else. Zim didn't bother him. It was bad enough he had to come here. The last thing he needed was to have the human hot on his trail, accusing him of his extraterrestrial roots.

Hopping off the stairs, he did not notice the group of guys huddled in the corner, whispering inaudible thoughts about him. His back turned, he fingered the shiny glass bottles of liquor and alcohol before he noticed they were directly behind him. There were three of them, one with a blue sports jacket , a short one with a piercing in his eyebrow, and another one who was tall and had a football stuffed under his arm.

"What's up, man?" the large one asked. He burped, scratching his arm.

Zim glanced up. "This is your house and you are asking me what is on your ceiling?" He pointed, shaking his head at their foolishness. "Your ceiling fan. That is what is up there."

They exchanged glances. "Anyways," the short one continued, "we thought we'd offer you a drink, or two or three…" He held the glass out welcomingly and leaned heavily against the alien. Clearly, he was no longer sober.

Zim rejected the offer and shoved him off. "I don't drink." Or else it will cause me to disintegrate, he added in his head.

"Oh, come on! One drink won't kill you!" they pressured.

"I already said no, filth sac. Be on your way!"

"Just a sip," they said, shoving it into his hands.

He pushed it back. "I am warning you, worm larva. If you do not—mph!" He was cut off as they shoved the bottle into his mouth, tipping it so that the harsh liquid coated the walls of his throat and fell into the pit of his Squeedily Spooch. He coughed, a scream already escaping his throat when he pushed the bottle away. And then he stopped. Ignoring the glances of everyone who stared at him, he looked down at his chest, surprised and unsure. His hands ran up and down, feeling for any holes, splits, or rashes. "I'm…I'm not burning," he breathed. "That liquid did not cause me to disintegrate!"

"Well, duh!" they slurred. "You only took, what, one drink?"

They were about to take the bottle back when Zim snatched it from their grip, and he began chugging down the substance. From anyone's point of view, it would seem Zim was just an average teenager wanting nothing more than to party and have a good time. What they did not know was that he really was just testing the liquid to see whether or not it could hurt him like water did.

"Still nothing!" he shouted. He giggled profusely. He slapped his leg, doubling over as his hysterical laughter filled the room. Everyone turned to stare. "W-What is this?" he choked out between giggles. "I feel all dizzy and…and tingly inside."

"Dude!" the one in the blue sports jacket shouted. "You're totally wasted! You're drunk!"

"I'm…drunk…?" Zim staggered. He frowned. "Is it contagious?"

Everyone broke out in laughter before cheering on the Irken to have another. In no time, he was plopped right in front of a table with bottles of alcohol dotting the top. His mouth watered, his tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth.

"Well," he reasoned, "maybe one more wouldn't hurt…"

**A/N**

**Yeah, one more wouldn't hurt. If you couldn't tell, Zim was already getting drunk off of just one swig of it. Imagine what an entire bottle (or bottles) will do!**

**In case you didn't know, Chunk, the one who said Zim and Dib weren't invited to the party, is from Invader Zim. You may remember him as the bully. I can't remember any other episodes, but in **_**Dark Harvest**_**, he was the one who threw that dodge ball at that kid in the very beginning and caused him to collapse.**

**Lol I love how Dib wears a brown turtleneck sweater, something completely unlike a teenager to wear to a party. Even Zim already knows that XD**

**Well, chapter 3 will be up soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

**Sorry it took so long to update! I have been super busy!**

**I LOVE this chapter! It is hilarious and full of moments I think you'll love.**

**Also, this is the final chapter! Thanks for reading!**

**Enjoy! **

Dib finally managed to pull himself from his hiding spot in the bathroom. It had been a while since he had heard Zim's voice, which was saying something considering he could hear the alien's shrill voice all the way from downstairs, over the blasting music, laughter, and screams.

Trotting down the stairs, he was halfway down when he stopped, gagging. His nostrils burned as they inhaled the thick smell of alcohol burning in the air. His heart stopped. He ran down the remainder of the stairs, frantically searching. Normally, he wouldn't care. Teenagers will be teenagers. Bu it meant trouble when Zim behaved this way. And as Dib stepped into the living room, he found that the Irken was doing just that.

Perched on the table, Zim clutched a lamp, swirling and twirling as he hugged it close to his chest. He giggled profusely, humming something that sounded close to a mix between Mozart and hip-hop. Circled around him, people danced and cheered, rooting him on. He squinted down at Dib before waving excitedly.

"Well, look-y here! It's," he hiccupped, "Dib! Come on, join me! I hooked you up with a hot little number!" He winked, clicking his tongue and elbowing a toaster that suddenly appeared in his arm. "She's a little shy, but she has the shiniest eyes you'll ever see!"

"That's not a girl, Zim!" Dib shouted. He climbed up on a chair and dragged the stumbling alien down to the floor. "What's the matter with you? Have you," he sniffed, "have you been drinking?"

Zim collapsed, crumpling to his knees. He immediately jumped back up, chugged another beer, and screamed wildly, pumping his fists into the air. Everyone cheered.

"That's it! We are out of here! Come on, let's go."

"But, but, Dib! The fun is just beginning!" He hurriedly scraped up some bottles of alcohol, even though they were empty, and brought them to his lips, sucking each drop out.

"Fun?" Dib asked. "You called being drunk out of your mind fun?" He pulled Zim to his feet which proved to be difficult. "I can't believe you would even do this."

"I know," Zim breathed. "Isn't it great?" He squirmed from Dib's grip. "I got to go to the bathroom and do something!"

"Like what?" Dib hollered after him.

Zim swiveled around. He eyed him in disbelief. "To freshen up," he exclaimed, combing through his wig. "Duh."

Dib sighed irritably as he watched him leave, ignoring his protest. He leaned against a bookshelf and listened for his return. Yet the minutes passed and the only thing he heard was what sounded like glass hitting a wall and some creaking. Soon, nearly fifteen minutes later, he got sick of it and Dib stomped up the stairs and pounded on the door.

"It does not take that long to freshen up," he said with a hint of mockery at the foolish excuse.

The door groaned and creaked open. The bathroom was empty. He dipped his head in, searching. "Zim?"

"You talking 'bout that green dude?" someone from behind asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, have you seen him?"

The man shrugged. "That crazy little green guy jumped out the window! I guess he didn't realize he's on the second floor…"

"That little—!" he groaned, hopping down the stairs and quickly abandoning the house to run out into the streets. He jogged down to Main Street where the cars rushed past in blurs of colors and blasting honks. He jumped back onto the sidewalk after nearly stepping out in front of a sports car zipping by. The driver threw an insult his way, but he paid no mind.

From behind foggy glasses, his eyes swept across in search for his enemy. So far, he was nowhere in sight. It was possible that he had simply wandered back to his base and decided to retire for the evening, but that was too simple. And Zim never made anything simple.

"He has to be around here somewhere," Dib thought aloud. "If I was a stoned alien who had drunken alcohol for the first time, where would I go?"

His eyes narrowed.

Nearby, in a twenty-four seven ice cream parlor, Zim peered up at the menu duct taped to the wall. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully while a soft hum brushed from his mouth, proving the deep thoughts that entered his head. A line had formed behind him, filled with impatient people who gladly exclaimed their disapproval.

Still, he looked up and droned, "I'll have…uh…I-I'll have a…uh…um…hmm…."

He could not see the menu clearly. His vision would not stop swaying! "Rotten little sight orbs," he grumbled, pressing his fists to his temples in an effort to straighten up. It did not work so instead, he had the idea to get closer; a little too closer. He leaned across the barstools placed in front of the counter. It was not enough. He then slid his weight across the chairs, toppling over the line of seats, and curled up onto the countertop. His knees folded, he bounced up and down as he hummed gleefully, loudly.

"Do you got any of them toast things?" he slurred.

The cashier raised an eyebrow. "Toast things, sir?"

"Yeah, you know," Zim waved his hand as he explained, "those little animal crackers with the baby hippos and pickles on 'em?"

Clad in a red and white striped suit with a white crumpled hat atop his head, the cashier groaned inwardly and thought, "I don't get paid enough for this job." Then to the drunken teenager he said, "Sir, I'm afraid I don't know what you're—"

"Ignorant piglet belly!" He jabbed his finger into the attendant's nose. Then he giggled, grabbing an ice cream cone from a little girl who happened to be walking by. "Oh, well. I guess this milk sludge will have to do."

"Hey, give that back!" the girl shrieked.

He stuck his tongue out and licked it quicker.

Her mother stepped into view. She was a large woman with tattoos crawling up and down her arms and shoulders. She even had a tattoo of a pig inked across her nose. Arms crossed, she glared down bitterly. "I suggest you give my little girl her ice cream back," she said in her husky, hoarse, and rather manly voice.

"And I suggest you get that thing off your face," he slurred. He pointed at the pig on her nose and smiled goofily. "Is that a pig or just a self-portrait? The details are just—"

In two seconds flat, he was thrown out from the restaurant where he skidded across the sidewalk on his face, an overturned ice cream cone landing next to him. He flicked the chunks of rock digging into his cheeks away. Smiling painfully, he plucked the cone up and began removing the clumps of dirt and hair from it. "Victory for Zim!" he chanted. He was right about to plop it into his mouth when Dib came running into view.

"Stop right there, space boy!" he hollered. "You're in a lot of trouble, mister!"

Seeing Dib, Zim squeaked and scrambled to his feet. The ice cream cone did not last long as it was shoved down his throat. Choking, he managed to gag out a cackle before rounding the corner and disappearing from sight yet again.

"I'm free!" his ever-fading voice squealed with delight.

"You're not getting away this time!" Dib yelled. He thought he could catch up. Surely with Zim's unstable state, he could manage to catch him before he disappeared completely. He was wrong. He did get away, and it was another hour before he caught sight of the Irken making a mad dash to a club with people gathered around the entrance, lights flickering and music pumping from within the building.

"That's all he needs," Dib muttered, scooting through the crowd, "is another place to get even more drunk." He stopped in his tracks, mouth agape, eyes wide with terror. "O-Oh, shoot!" He zipped into the club as fast as he could, passing the large sign that said Karaoke Night! in bold letters.

It was so loud, he couldn't hear himself think. Everywhere he looked, strobe lights flashed, people danced, and the floor remained lit up with bright, mind-numbing colors. He was glad that he looked older than he really was; the security team didn't even I.D. him when he came in. But then again, Zim did not look any older than he really was—or posed to be while pretending to even be of Earth—so perhaps they were just lazy. Either way, all Dib knew right then and there was that he had to find his drunken companion before it was too late.

He tried asking if anyone had seen him, yet no one could hear over the thumping bass which vibrated heavily in his chest. It was not until he heard an announcer on stage loudly proclaim the beginning of the karaoke competition did his search come to a close. He faced the man, barley listening as his eyes continued to scan the crowd.

"Step right up!" the man screamed. "It's karaoke night! Who's going to be our first volunteer? Guys? Anyone?"

"I'll do it!"

Dib couldn't breathe. That voice, he recognized it right away. Just in time, he turned to see Zim jumping up the stairs, right onto the center of the stage. His wig had been ruffled from their earlier chase and stood out in wild spikes and daggered, pointed tips. His eyes remained glazed over, the pupils shrunken and glossy. Dib could tell his body was having a difficult time handling the newfound liquid. Even his hands shook uncontrollably at his sides, but he seemed to pay no mind.

The announced nodded, handed Zim the microphone, and stepped off the stage. "You're up, little green man."

**(A/N: Sorry to interrupt but if you have not heard the song, If I Had You by Adam Lambert, you may want to listen to it right here. watch?v=Plgrxo0WsZM Even if you don't like his music, listen. It adds to the hilarity of the story XD. Back to the story!)**

The Irken waited excitedly for the music to begin and when it did, his face lit up excitedly. "Hey, I know this song!" he chirped. It was bouncy, full of high notes, and completely pointless; everything Zim liked in a song. The lyrics popped onto the screen and he began.

**So I got my boots on,**

**Got the right 'mount of leather**

** And I'm doing me up with a black colored liner**

** And I'm working my strut but I know it don't matter**

**All we need in this world is some love**

Dib hid his face in embarrassment. He peeked through the cracks of his fingers and looked up. His embarrassment was forgotten instantly. He saw Zim's PAK flashing and sparking. Zim continued to dance along with the crowd, oblivious.

**There's a thin line 'tween the dark side,**

**And the light side, baby tonight**

**It's a struggle, gotta rumble, tryin'a find it**

His eyebrows dropped with worry. He scooted out of the crowd where he gathered to the sidelines and propped his foot on a stool. Sliding the laptop out of his sweater, he turned back to the man and woman staring at him oddly.

"What, you've never seen someone carry a laptop in their sweater before?" he asked.

They shook their heads slowly.

He frowned and waved them off.

Behind him, Zim pumped his fists in the air in time with the lyrics. The crowd of people went wild and jumped up and down, swinging their heads and pumping their drinks into the air.

**But if I had you,**

**That would be the only thing I'd ever need**

**Yeah if I had you,**

**The money, fame and fortune never could compete**

**If I had you,**

** Life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy**

** Yeah, if I had you**

** Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you**

** If I had you**

Dib gasped. "Oh, no! The alcohol is causing his PAK to malfunction, and if my calculations are correct, he's going to drop any minute. If I don't get him out of here soon, they'll call an ambulance for him and the paramedics will know he's an alien right away."

**From New York to LA getting high, rock and rolling**

**Get a room trash it up 'til it's ten in the morning**

**Girls in stripper heels, boys rolling in Maserati's**

**What they need in this world is some love**

He scoffed. "But what do I care? He deserves it. After all, he is an alien trying to destroy my home planet." Zim now had a pair of two girls fastened to his sides. He laughed profusely between breaks in the lyrics, allowing the girls to rub their hands across his chest and face. The crowd whistled suggestively. "He'll end up in a lab on a dissection table," Dib continued. He shook his head. "That's where he belongs."

**There's a thin line 'tween the wild time,**

**And a flat-line, baby tonight**

**It's a struggle gotta rumble, tryin'a find it**

And then Dib frowned. "But then he'll die." He stared at the floor. Inside, he was tearing himself apart with the great debate only he could hear. Logic told him to let the Irken die. His humanity told him to save him.

**But if I had you,**

**That would be the only thing I'd ever need**

**Yeah if I had you,**

**The money, fame and fortune never could compete**

**If I had you,**

** Life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy**

** Yeah, if I had you**

** Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you**

** If I had-**

Dib raced to the front of the stage, his head barely reaching the platform. "Zim!" he called. His voice was unheard above the noise.

**The flashing of the lights**

**It might feel so good**

**But I got you stuck on my mind, yeah**

** The fashion and the stage, it might get me high**

**But it don't mean a thing tonight**

Dib cringed at the high note. He was thoroughly surprised the alien could even sing that high. Still, it did not matter. The music was lower and he finally had a chance to get his attention.

"Zim! Hey!"

Zim squinted down. His face flashed with recognition and he smiled instantly. He let the backup singers handle most of the verse so that he could talk. "Dib-friend! You're here!" He looked around the stage. "Look, they love me!" Surprised, he squeaked, nearly missing his next verse.

**That would be the only thing I'd ever need**

**Yeah if I had you,**

**The money, fame and fortune never could compete**

**If I had you,**

**Life would be a party it'd be ecstasy**

**Yeah if I had you**

**Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you**

**If I had you**

With all the high notes, he laid down on the stage, smiling and belting out the words with enthusiasm.

"You need to listen to me," Dib hollered, pulling away just in time to avoid a group of girls that scrambled onto the stage to dance. "The alcohol is destroying your PAK. I need to bring you home before you pass out or we're both in trouble!"

Zim waved him off and held up a finger. "Hang on! I got to finish this up!"

**That would be the only thing I'd ever need**

** Yeah if I had you,**

**The money, fame and fortune never could compete**

**(Never could compete with you)**

**If I had you, life would be a party, it'd be ecstasy**

**(It'd be ecstasy with you)**

**Yeah if I had you**

**Y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you y-y-y-y-y-you**

**If I had you.**

Everyone screamed, cheered, and whooped. They gathered on the stage and circled around him. He smiled brightly, giggling. His world was on fire! No, wait. The lights were too bright. The noise, the cheering, it was all too loud. Head spinning, his knees buckled and he was about to crumble to the stage when a hand reached out and caught him. He looked up into Dib's face, eyes unsure if what they were seeing was really there.

"Dib," he stuttered weakly, his hands shaking, "I-I'm sorry—"

"Save it," Dib said. "We need to get you home."

He pulled him to his feet and managed to squeeze him out of the tight crowd. It took time to get him to the Membrane household—everyone was asking for Zim's autograph—but as soon as they arrived, Dib dragged him up the stairs and rested him on his bed.

Zim watched, eyelids heavy, as Dib plucked a needle out of a drawer and flicked it, clear liquid dripping from the end. He pushed the tip into Zim's arm, receiving a flinch from his squirming patient.

"That should do it," he said, disposing of the injector. "You may want to rest, though. Wouldn't want you dropping, would we?"

He rubbed his arm. "I didn't expect it to go that far," Zim admitted. "I didn't know all of that would happen just from a drink."

"A lot of people think that. We've just got to make sure you stay away from it."

"We?"

"Don't think you're staying out of my sight anytime soon after tonight, alien scum."

He returned the smirk the human gave him. "Don't think that this puts our rivalry behind us, worm baby." He stood and stretched. He eyed Dib cautiously before screaming, "Ha!" and shoving him off his chair. He tore out of the room, leaving Dib to scramble to his feet, laughter echoing through the hall.

He smiled wickedly, readjusting his glasses and chasing after the Irken. "I wouldn't have it any other way, space boy!"

**A/N**

**Ha-ha! I love drunk Zim! **

**I wanted to make this a Dib-Zim friendship so I had to add the ending.**

**Tell me what you think! Sorry if it was poorly written. I am tired and very un-focused right now. Hopefully it wasn't too awful.**

**Thanks for reading and don't forget those dandy little reviews :D!**

**P.S. I do not own the song, show, etc.**


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